I do not like being overheated. Let me rephrase. I absolutely hate being hot. For some reason I sweat mostly via my head and face and back. Gross. Sweat drips from my eyebrows into my eyes and blinds me. Like life isn’t hard enough wearing glasses? Anyway, we have started summer in NYC. And by summer in NYC I mean sticky sauna-like conditions above ground. Waiting on subway platforms, you expect Satan to walk up to you and ask, “How do you like hell?”
You long for the days of summer when you’d throw on a bathing suit and run through a sprinkler or go swimming in a friend’s pool.
But wait, the heat has another unbearable side effect. Human stench. You can smell urine hanging in the air for a good 200 feet from the source. I am so damn sick of smelling urine.
Did I mention subways run pretty infrequently on the weekends so you spend a lot of time waiting in hellish conditions?
Better yet, the haze in the air–yup it’s that freaking sticky and hot.
Usually at some point, approximately 30 minutes of continuous heat causes me to meltdown. I rant and rave to myself and my friends, swearing I will not spend one more summer in this god forsaken hell hole. There’s many more expletives thrown in by the way. I start stringing together cuss words in ways you never imagined.
Thankfully, this is my last summer in hell. I won’t be riding the subway in the summer of 2011. No. Where will I be? Not sure yet. But nowhere hot and humid.